The Redemption of the King
by K'diwa Eldariel
Summary: Eustace asks a question, which Edmund answers fully, much to the astonishment of those aboard the Dawn Treader and the shame of the eavesdropping sailor who asked for a tale.
1. Question

_The Redemption of the King_. Eustace asks a question and Edmund answers, much to the surprise of those aboard the _Dawn Treader. _

Disclaimer: I am not C.S. Lewis. If I grow to possess a fraction of his literary genius, I will be the happiest author on Earth!

(1) Question

Eustace gazed into the galley fire, fascinated in spite of himself. The tongues of flame twisted and danced in an incomprehensible pattern, weaving and waving in myriad shades of red and gold. He'd never really liked fire before, had never seen the value of its roaring warmth, of sitting around it with one's friends and family, listening to cheerful chatter, laughter, and gossip. Fire. Friends. Family. Just a few of the things he was learning to appreciate in Narnia, especially after having been un-dragoned by Aslan. Becoming a huge, ugly, nuisance of a creature (and discovering that you had been behaving like one all along) did tend to put things in perspective. He really _had_ been an ass.

_ You were only an ass, but I was a traitor. _Eustace frowned. Edmund's statement had begun to bother him after they had left Dragon Island. A traitor? _Edmund?_ It was so un-Edmund, it was absurd. Edmund's sense of right and wrong was strong, to say the least. Anyway, weren't Peter, Susan, Edmund and Lucy supposed to be the legendary Narnian monarchs of the "Golden Age"? Not that Eustace knew anything about Narnian history –he hadn't really cared about it until recently, but how could a traitor become a king?

"A tree for your thoughts?" Edmund's voice cut through his cousin's reverie.

Eustace blinked. "A what?"

"A tr –a penny. A penny for your thoughts."

"Aah." Eustace was going to have to get someone to teach him the names and values of Narnian currency. "Nothing, really."

"Oh, come on," Edmund's voice was light, encouraging. "There's something on your mind. Out with it, cousin, or I shall get Lu to tickle it out of you."

Eustace felt vaguely cornered by Edmund's wolf-grey eyes. "_Must_ you talk like a king?"

"_Must_ you avoid the question?" Edmund shot back.

"What's this about tickling Eustace?" Lucy asked. She looked over at them from where she was talking with Caspian and Reepicheep.

"He was about to bless us with his great and wise thoughts", said Edmund with a small smirk. Eustace glared in response.

"Let's hear them, then," said Caspian.

"I'd really rather not."

Reepicheep gave Eustace a hard look. "In case you haven't noticed, it isn't just family who has requested you to speak your mind. Your cousins are also your king and queen, and King Caspian has asked as well."

Eustace sighed. "I don't have any wise words. I was just wondering."

"Wondering what?"

Eustace looked at Edmund. "What did you mean, exactly, on Dragon Island when you said you were a traitor? I don't get it. You're a king. How does a traitor become a king?"

There was silence. He'd said something terrible, that was for certain, if Lucy's appalled face, Caspian's uncharacteristically unsure expression, and Reepicheep's astonished gaze was anything to go by (though how it was possible for a Mouse to look astonished, Eustace didn't know). Edmund, however, simply looked…thoughtful, as if his grey eyes gazed upon something only he could see. A gusty breath escaped his lips and moved his dark bangs. "That", said Edmund with an almost audible snap back to reality, "that is a long tale".

"A tale!" cried a voice from somewhere else in the galley. "A tale!"

"Aye!" More people joined in. "A tale from King Edmund!"

"Don't they _know_?" Lucy cried. "Edmund, tell a different one!"

Edmund shook his head. "It's my story. I'm not afraid of it. Have you ever heard of the _Lion's Tetrarch Cycle_, Caspian?"

Caspian's eyes lit up. "We found a copy, along with half a library's worth of books, in a vault while we were restoring the Cair. I've never heard any of the pieces preformed, though. There are so _many_..."

"Then you'll like this," said Edmund. He stood up on his chair, and the chatter in the galley died down a little. "Good my people!" he cried. "Monarchs, lords, knights, and valiant seafarers! A tale has been requested. A tale will be told. By our good cousin's request, it will be '_The Redemption of the King'_!"


	2. Respect and Power

(2) Respect and Power

"Now," said Edmund. Almost the entire crew of the _Dawn_ _Treader_ had gathered on deck to hear the story. Armed with an empty crate of apples to sit upon, and a mug of what Eustace hoped wasn't (but suspected was) something like hard cider (Narnians had a completely uncivilized and lax view of alcohol, in his opinion), Edmund surveyed his audience with a small smile. "This story," Edmund began, "is one in a cycle of tales chronicling Narnia's Golden Age. This particular one was a great favorite among the people, especially in the West of Narnia. They recounted it with reverence and wonder. This story, _The_ _Redemption_ _of_ _the_ _King_, was also the least favorite at Cair Paravel."

"For good reason," Lucy muttered.

"You see," Edmund continued, "it is _my_ story, a story of two deaths, two lives, and the battle for the heart of a king.

"It is said that the Sons and Daughters of Adam and Eve are a confusing and confused race. They are forever wanting what is not good for them, wanting too much of what _is_ good for them (which becomes in itself a bad thing), and find it remarkably easy to ignore Truth, especially if it is right under their noses and they know it. This is especially true for men, whose hearts hunger for respect, for adventure, for accomplishment and the taming and protecting of things and of others. This hunger, if not met, can be turned to resentment and corrupted into a hunger for power –a base and unsatisfying substitute for true respect. This is the fate of many.

This was the fate of Edmund Pevensie."

There was a small hiss of a gasp from the audience at this pronouncement. Edmund took a drink of whatever-it-was that was in his mug and continued the story. "Edmund was a youngest brother, an ignominious position, in his opinion. His two elder siblings, Peter and Susan, were always 'In Charge', always giving instructions and warnings, most of which were along the lines of 'be careful' and 'don't touch that!'. Instead of seeing these instructions as evidence that his siblings loved him and wanted to take care of him, Edmund saw them in light of his own needs –Peter and Susan, he believed, wanted respect and obedience, and didn't particularly care that they treated him without the respect he deserved. After all, he was Lucy's elder brother, which had to count for _something_.

"Edmund, like all humans, knew truth from lie. In fact, he had a talent for it. He not only could discern verity in words, he could also sense truths in people and their intentions. Unfortunately, Edmund had never learned that an unguarded strength is a double weakness. About his family and himself, Edmund was more likely to believe a lie.

"Edmund saw that Lucy adored Peter, who was a leader and seemed to be good at anything he tried, loved Susan, who charmed strangers and had a talent of knowing exactly what to say and do to make people feel good, and didn't think much of _him_. Edmund was blind to his sister's love of him, of the brother who had a talent of insight and truth-telling, the one whose wolf-grey eyes could notice tiny details, who had a wry smile, who had taught her how to read, and always had time to play games with her. Edmund could not see her love and respect for him. And so he became resentful. He struck back." Edmund paused for a moment and looked at his audience, especially at Lucy. She seemed to be crying. He sighed and continued.

"Resentment is a ridiculous and dangerous emotion. It is like drinking poison and then waiting for your enemies to die. You wait and you wait but you fail to realize that it is you who is dying, bit by bit, inch by inch. This is what happened to Edmund. He became spiteful, sarcastic, and disobedient. He used his skill with words and his own talent of insight to deny his siblings the respect and love he believed they were withholding from him. The more Edmund did this, the more wary his family became about showing him love, the more suspicious of their affections he became, and the more he denied them respect and love. Edmund was in a cycle of isolation of his own making. He even hated being touched." Edmund paused again, and changed tense. "I remember this, despite my best efforts to forget. I remember it, not because I was miserable, but because I made my family miserable, and shrugged them off when they tried to hug me. Especially you, Lucy. I'm sorry."

"I forgive you," said Lucy, smiling through her tears. "Go on." Edmund heard the unspoken _I'm glad you're telling this one now_, and nodded.

"So Edmund was caught in this cycle of resentment and isolation of his own making.

Then came boarding school. Of all the places to send a resentful, suspicious, insightful boy, boarding school, where he would be living with several resentful, suspicious boys, had to be the worst. Edmund was soon established as the king of these boys. Before, he had used insight, behavior, and words to disrespect his family, to be a general nuisance, to 'get back' for certain things. At boarding school, he realized he could use his skills as weapons, could wield them, and could gain power.

"Edmund found he rather liked power. His friends (lackeys, really) were in complete awe of him. His enemies (more like victims) feared him. It wasn't the respect he craved. He rather thought power was better. The only things he was afraid of were older, stronger bullies, certain teachers, and the wrath and disappointment in Peter's clear blue eyes, so much a window to his soul. Fear was temporary, Edmund thought. He would show them all, eventually.

"So it was that the Edmund who returned from boarding school was a spiteful, mean, lying, cruel slip of a boy. He took his siblings' best and worst qualities and ridiculed them equally. He teased Lucy, ignored Susan, and snapped at Peter. He was sullen in front of his parents. He did not have the sort of power over them as he had his school fellows, and this bothered him, but he _could_ make them miserable, and he did so.

"He was also afraid. The price of power is fear, and Edmund was no exception. He was afraid of being abandoned by his family, afraid of being hated, and yet he was afraid to be loved, for somewhere, though malnourished, his talent for recognizing Truth still remained, reminding him that all his behavior was based upon a lie. If he admitted the truth of his siblings' love for him, he would have no satisfaction in mistreating them, would gain no power by doing so. Edmund liked power. He kept believing the lie. His desire for respect had become an all-out hunger for power, and this sealed his doom."

Edmund looked around at his audience. "I'd forgotten how long this story was. Perhaps we should continue tomorrow."

There was a small amount of protest, but more cracking of necks that were stiff from sitting still so long.

"A wise decision, Sire," said Drinian, "but by no means popular."

"Tomorrow," said Edmund decisively. "Do not look so long in the face. The rest is worth the wait. Tomorrow."


End file.
